The Book of Eden Read online

  The Book of Eden

  A Keepers Novel

  Book Two

  Alex Temples

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven*

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  To Gram,

  Acknowledgements

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locales and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, or they are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2017 by Alex Temples

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations used in book reviews. For information, or to contact the author, please visit: www.alextemples.com

  f

  They were an ancient people, born of the elements, forged from the elemental powers of earth, air, fire and water.

  The Book of Eden

  The Book of Eden

  Chapter One

  My cell phone rang as I slipped one foot into the bath. That couldn’t be good. Only a handful of people would call me this late at night. I stared longingly at the layer of bubbles sparkling in the candlelight. Then, I sighed deeply and pulled a fluffy white towel off the rack before answering the phone.

  “Tristan, I’m supposed to be on vacation. I hope this is a life or death matter.” I said drily, pulling the towel tightly around me.

  “Brin, my apologies, but this can’t wait.” He said, his voice serious.

  After battling the dark fae for the last few months, and everything else we’d been through, I knew Tristan would only ask for my help if there was no other alternative.

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “I’ve received intelligence from the scouts monitoring Gethin and Evrei.” He said, hesitating. “There’s something else, but I’d rather not share it on the phone.”

  I thought for a moment before responding. Tristan was back in New York, helping run the lab where we were producing an in-demand vaccine for mortals. Despite our partnership with the CDC, we were the only ones with the means to produce the vaccine we called Elixir of Eve, or EEV for short.

  The CDC lacked the necessary ingredient to synthesize the vaccine - magic.

  What do we need an elixir for, you ask?

  Basically, there’s a hole in the wall between the mortal realm and the magical realm of Eden. Think of it like having a hole in the earth’s atmosphere large enough to allow the sun’s rays to kill humans But, instead of sunlight, we have magic-laced Eden air trickling into the atmosphere. Some mortals tolerate higher levels of magic-exposure than others before experiencing adverse effects, just like some people tolerate sunlight better than others.

  For example, my good friend and colleague, Siddarth, is from India. He has beautiful bronze skin and would have to make an effort to get sunburned. Me on the other hand, I’m part Irish, and a redhead to boot, so after about 15 minutes in the sun I’m a cheery shade of crimson.

  Unfortunately for the mortals, the side-effects of magic-exposure are more serious than a sunburn. Over the past few months, we’ve seen everything from flu-like symptoms to seizures, comas and even death. That being the case, until we fix the hole, we must keep creating vaccine, and we’re running out of mistletoe extract – the key ingredient.

  Where were we? Oh yes, my conversation with Tristan…

  I thought for a moment before answering him. Anything Tristan wasn’t willing to say on the phone was likely to be very bad news.

  “How urgent is it? Do I need to fly back today?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and steady.

  “No, you don’t have to fly back.” He replied.

  I waited patiently for him to continue. He didn’t. I sensed he was trying to read my mood.

  It was no use trying to wait out a fae. Immortals are incredibly patient. After all, they have all the time in the world. Instead, I prodded gently. “Is there a reason I don’t need to fly back now, with such an urgent matter?”

  “Have you seen your grandmother?” He asked, ignoring my question.

  I frowned. I’d chosen Dublin for vacation so I could visit my paternal grandmother. I’d been planning a trip around the world when the pandemic hit. That had put a halt to my plans. After the sudden shock of finding out I wasn’t mortal, and the race to find a cure for magic poisoning to prevent mortals from dying, I‘d lost the desire to escape my formerly mundane existence. Especially since I’d been unable to prevent the death of my father, who’d succumbed before we had a viable vaccine.

  Before I knew about the otherworld, my father, my brother Oren, and my job were pretty much my entire world. I’d fled to Dublin, in search of my estranged grandmother, who I hadn’t seen since I was a child. I don’t know exactly what I hoped to gain. I suppose I wanted someone to help rid me of the guilt I felt for dad’s death. He hadn’t been the best father in the world, but he’d been mine to protect, and I‘d failed him.

  “Brin? Are you there?” Tristan’s voice sounded from my phone, and I realized he’d been talking and I hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

  “Yes, I’m here. Sorry, my mind wandered. What did you ask?”

  “Your grandmother, Brin. Have you seen her?”

  I wrapped the towel tighter, shivering at the slight draft. I was dripping water all over the floor.

  “No, I haven’t made it out to visit her yet. She wasn’t at the old address I had for her in Dublin. She’s moved out to the countryside. I just got the new address from one of her neighbors. Why? What does that have to do with your news?”

  Tristan coughed.

  He was stalling.

  Curiosity peaked, I recalled his comment about the phones. “Where are you?”

  He sighed, relieved at the change in subject. “I’m in Dublin.”

  “You’re in Dublin?”

  “Yes, I just got in.”

  “What about the lab?”

  “Siddarth is taking care of it, and he has Emma to help, so no need to worry.” He said, his voice weary.

  I wondered if the weight of our task was finally getting to him. We’d had a lot on our plates these past fe
w months. Clearing my throat, I offered what reassurance I could.

  “I’m glad to hear Siddarth is in charge. It’s about time you took a break.”

  I’d worked with Siddarth for practically a decade, not knowing he’d been sent to look after me by Aelwen, the fae queen. She was also my maternal grandmother, but we’ll save that story for another day. Initially, I’d been upset at Siddarth’s deception, but the further we got from the incident, the harder it was for me to stay mad at him.

  Soft-spoken and silently reassuring, Sid inspired trust in those around him. This ability served him well, not just in his work running clinical trials with me, but as the very old, very skilled fae healer he was. I knew both the lab, and my very mortal lab assistant, Emma, were in good hands.

  “A break…yeah.” Tristan laughed, filling the silence between us.

  “You’ve been taking care of the lab and everyone else, including me since your brother vanished.”

  Damn Aiden. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Tristan.”

  “Yeah, well…” His voice trailed off as he looked for a way to change the subject. Praise made him uncomfortable. “I’m staying in a flat near Trinity College. Can you meet me there?”

  I bit my lip and looked at the clock. It was so late it was early - just past 4 o’clock in the morning. I wasn’t surprised. I’d been keeping strange hours the last few months. The campus wouldn’t be open for a while, but if I knew Tristan, that wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Yes, just tell me where to meet you and I’ll head right over.” I said, rubbing my forehead with a soft sigh. I felt a headache coming on.

  Tristan chuckled. “Now you sound more like yourself. Don’t worry, we’ll get you a strong cup of coffee for that headache. Meet me in Temple Bar. There’s a coffee shop a block off the university that opens at 5a.m.”

  “Had this all worked out, didn’t you?” I asked with a laugh, feeling a bit more centered knowing he was close by. I didn’t ask how he knew I had a headache. Strange fae stuff. Their senses were more acute than mortals. Even though I was half-fae, I had barely scratched the surface of my abilities.

  Tristan gave me an address and I agreed to meet him.

  When I got off the phone most of the bubbles in my bath were gone and the water had taken on a grayish hue. I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.

  I sighed. I hadn’t taken a bubble bath since I was eight years old and here I had just celebrated my 30th birthday.

  After spending the first part of my life clawing my way to the top of my career, never mind all the craziness of the last few months, I was ready for a little me time.

  It’s hard to find a scientist who has time for bubble baths. The job always seems to stretch beyond the typical 9-5. Even when I wasn’t in the lab I found myself getting sucked into medical journals and online forums.

  I’m a pharmacologist, which is a fancy way of saying I develop drugs to treat what ails you. People usually sound impressed when I tell them what I do at dinner parties, but it’s a lot less glamorous than you’d imagine. I spend most of my days puttering around the university lab in a dingy white coat and no makeup, hoping my latest experiments will yield results and not wind up in a biohazard container.

  Unfortunately, due to the nature of my work, results come infrequently, leading me to nip into the overpriced bottle of scotch in my desk drawer more often than I should. Until a few months ago, I thought my job was the most interesting thing about me. Boy, was I wrong.

  It turns out I’m part fae, and now the leader of a secret group of half-fae called The Keepers, charged with protecting humans from magical people. Most of the world still doesn’t know magical people exist, and if it was up to me, I’d vote to keep it that way. People need security, and sometimes, it’s easier for them to just pretend there aren’t scary things that go bump in the night. I wondered what might be waiting for me out in the darkness.

  Just a few months ago, I would have laughed in your face if you’d told me fairy tales were real. As a scientist, I’ve always been one to seek evidence first, and listen to anecdotes later. You say there’s a boogeyman out there in the dark who eats small children? Prove it.

  At least that’s what I used to tell my little brother Oren when he woke up with a nightmare. We were very close as kids. After our mother died in a car accident when we were little, I pretty much took on the job of raising him while our father spent his time lecturing at the university during the day and drinking himself into a stupor in the evenings.

  Glancing at the bottle of scotch on my nightstand, I sighed. Unfortunately, all the drinking in the world can’t erase the fact that boogeymen do exist. Now I have the proof Oren could never rustle up.

  Those fairy tales you heard as a kid? Real - at least in part. Though writers are known to get a bit creative in the re-telling of things. Real fae aren’t like the cute little winged things you read about, so if you’re picturing Tinkerbell, you may want to adjust your world view.

  I’ve spent the past few months hiding from the world, trying to adjust my own perception of reality. Much to my dismay, the answers haven’t appeared at the bottom of my bottle of Laphroaig. On the upside, I now have a lifetime lease on four square feet of my very own Scottish Island, and a much higher tolerance to scotch whisky. Damn ribosomes.

  Why is it my liver gets better at processing the liquor I’m drinking, but my brain can’t seem to get a handle on the fact that Fae exist?

  Fae are ancient, immortal, and incredibly powerful. Their magical abilities are hard to explain in a few short sentences, but suffice it to say their abilities are as varied as any a mere mortal might possess. I should know. I only recently discovered I have some very strange magical powers of my own, which include being able to pull energy from nature and use it as a weapon against my enemies.

  Aiden, my former mentor, and if we’re being honest, former lover, told me fae refer to this as green magic. I discovered this ability first and found it very useful in foiling the plans of the dark fae lord after he attempted to destroy the wall between the worlds.

  I’m learning there are many things I can do with my magic, just not very well. It would help if I had someone to guide me, but after enlightening me to my abilities and helping create EEV, Aiden disappeared. I think it had something to do with him finding out his supposedly long-dead father is alive and leading the dark fae in their battle for power. I guess I can’t blame him. That news would upset anyone.

  I’ve been going through a bit of an adjustment period myself, for reasons I won’t get into now, which is why I find myself in Dublin on this cold, dreary night. My gram always told me stories of Ireland when I was little. My father’s side is Irish, you see. I still have fond memories of Gram singing me and Oren lullabies before bed.

  Some people are like that, calming to the very core. You feel safe and protected in their presence. That was gram. So, after spending a few months wandering the world, mourning the death of my father and the radical adjustment to my newfound powers, I decided visiting my grandmother was just what I needed.

  I’d flown from Paris to Dublin late last night, after spending a few hectic days cavorting about the city with my friend Sam. She’s getting married in the fall and though I love her like a sister, but she’s a bit of a bridezilla. The moment my flight from New York landed, we’d been off to a series of appointments - choosing floral arrangements, doing dress fittings, attending cake tastings, going favor shopping, and more. Who knew getting married was so much work?

  I’d been less overwhelmed with the process of bringing a cancer drug to market than I was with the crazy rituals necessary to get her hitched to her Colombian sweetheart. On day two of our trip, I’d decided if I ever got married, it would be at a drive-thru in Vegas.

  I’d only had one day to recover from the bridal hustle and bustle, most of which I’d spent on the phone with my best friend Tomas, unloading on him for not being in Paris with us.

  His job kept him away. Tomas was an arm
y brat, who’d spent the bulk of his childhood moving from place to place. His mother was from Spain. She’d met his father when he was stationed at the base there. Tomas’s father was a hardline conservative, a man’s man.

  He and Tomas hadn’t seen eye to eye growing up and I remembered many nights when Tomas ran away from home only to show up at my house, where he knew my dad would be too drunk to notice him throwing pebbles at our apartment window at midnight.

  Tomas and I had met in middle school detention. We’d both had a problem with authority at that point in our lives and had spent a lot of time in Ms. Grundle’s detention class after school. She was a legend. Kids had referred to the towering, bony, green-eyed woman as the Grundle. She was a frightening, angry woman who hated kids. Detention with the Grundle was enough to put you on your best behavior for weeks.

  Much to my delight, Tomas had a talent for mimicry. As the Grundle turned her back on us, Tomas was out of his seat, miming the old gator’s movements for the rest of the detention goers. It drove her crazy. She never caught him, but boy did she try. We’d become fast friends, bonding over our hatred for authority and our struggles with our parents, my struggle dealing with absent parents, and his dealing with overbearing ones.

  Tomas was one of the few non-white kids in our school. I grew up in a very white, very conservative, very Christian neighborhood. Tomas was half Spanish, but all the kids in school made fun of him for being Mexican. He was a shade darker than everyone else and he could speak Spanish. It was even worse for him when they found out his father was white. Kids that couldn’t be dumped neatly into one category didn’t fare well in middle school, and Tomas would never fit in one box.

  I loved that about him. I loved him period. When I’d been younger, I’d mistaken my feelings for a romantic love. He was the first boy I’d kissed. One day, I’d cornered him in his kitchen when his parents weren’t home and laid one on him. It was an unremarkable kiss, but it was a turning point in our relationship. That was the day he’d told me he was gay. It took everything he had to tell me. I think he was worried I wouldn’t want to be his friend, which was ridiculous.